


Roses and Ancient Ways

by Aglarien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/pseuds/Aglarien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor takes a fall off of a cliff and reveals more than he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses and Ancient Ways

Disclaimer: Alas, not mine, except for the cat. The great Master Tolkien’s estate owns everything. I promise to return his elves when I’m done playing with them.  
Author's Notes: Written for Jinglebells in June fic swap. With apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan for the misuse of their song “The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring” from The Mikado.  
Beta: Lady Mirfain

 

Erestor lay on the ground squinting up at the sky. The bright June sun hurt his eyes so he closed them. “The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, are such a wonderful thing, tra-lay,” he warbled quietly. “I wonder how long till they find me, tra-la-lilie-la…lay.” It was a shame that Elrond had told him to take the day off and get some fresh air; it could be hours before anyone missed him. A rock was cutting into his side and was most uncomfortable. “Probably the same rock that my head bounced off of,” he mumbled. “Stupid rock. Stupid cliff. Stupid Glorfindel. All his fault.” He reached around along side of his body, blindly patting the ground until his hand encountered the rose he sought. Holding it up in front of his face, he opened one eye and squinted at it. “Squished.” He laid the red rose on his chest. “Is a squished rose still a rose, tra-la,” he sang, his voice fading towards the end. 

“I wonder if I could sit up. Oh well, nothing for it but to try.” Bracing one hand on the rocky ground, he gingerly lifted his upper body…and his head swam and his stomach rolled. “Oh no, no, noooo. Not a good thing. Mustn’t sit, no, no, no,” he muttered quietly in a sing-song voice. “Mustn’t sit, mustn’t move, tra-la-la-la…lay. Mustn’t sleep, sleep is bad, tra-la, head is broke, tra-lay...la.”

The counselor lay quietly, eyes closed, hands folded over his chest, trying to stay alert, but his aching head and smarting eyes won out and he dosed, jerking awake each time he nodded off and setting off the swimming in his stomach again. “Oh it’s worse than a sail with Cirdan, tra-la,” he sang, and then nodded off again.

How long he lay there, he did not know, but he suddenly felt fingers pressing against his throat and a voice whispered, “Thank the Valar – he lives!” 

Erestor knew that voice. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw a large body silhouetted against the sun. It was a man – who smelled. A face – he knew that face. “You need a shave, Estel. You are scruffy. And a bath – you smell.” His eyes closed again.

“Indeed I do, dear Master Erestor,” Aragorn chuckled in relief. 

Two bodies dropped down beside their foster brother who had reached the fallen counselor first. “Erestor, what happened?” Elrohir asked softly as three pair of hands began feeling along their former tutor’s limbs for injury. It looked as if Erestor had fallen from the top of a thankfully small cliff while attempting to pluck a rose from the bush that grew down its side.

“Where do you hurt?” Elladan asked. “I do not think you have any broken bones, but that is a nasty gash on your head that has bled quite profusely.”

“Welcome home, young ones,” Erestor said. “I am most happy to see you. I fell – from up there.” He pointed a finger towards the top of the cliff. “I wanted a rose. No, no broken bones. Just a broken head…tra-la.”

Elladan looked at Erestor quizzically. “Tra-la?”

“Tra-la-la-la-lilie-la-lay,” Erestor sang.

“Erestor, open your eyes and look at me,” Elrohir said.

Erestor opened his eyes and looked.

“Oh, yes. A concussion, tra-la,” Elladan said, looking into the unfocused, dilated eyes.

“Indeed. Let’s try and get you up, Erestor,” Aragorn said, lifting the counselor’s upper body carefully.

“Oh, no…mustn’t do that,” Erestor said. “Bad thing to do…very bad thing.” He turned his head and the remains of his morning meal paid a return visit. “Very bad thing,” he groaned.

“Oh, very bad thing,” Elrohir agreed, helping Erestor lay back down. “Something to remember, little brother,” he said to Aragorn. “Concussions frequently bring nausea. We will need to carry Erestor back on a litter.”

“Lovely idea, tra-la,” Erestor sang. “No more rock in my side, tra-la, and I can sleep, tra-la…lay.”

“No sleep, tra-la,” Elladan said. “You have a head injury, tra-lay.”

“Oh damn, tra-la,” Erestor sang in reply.

It was quickly decided that the best thing to do was to get Erestor back to the Last Homely House where his head, as well as his various scrapes and bruises, could be looked after properly. Treating his injuries where they were would only add to the counselor's discomfort. Erestor's head was skillfully bandaged, and a litter made of blankets and tree limbs was swiftly constructed. The wounded elf was carefully placed on the litter and they began the trek home, their horses following behind. 

“What were you doing so far from the house?” Elrohir asked in an effort to keep Erestor from falling asleep. 

“The day is fair, spring and summer will soon meet and kiss, tra-la," Erestor sang. "The day is fair and love is in the air, tra-la…lay. And I wanted a rose, tra-la, for the one I love, tra-la.”

“There were no roses in the gardens?” Elladan asked.

“Of course,” Erestor said. “But I wanted this one.” He lifted the red rose which he had still been holding against his chest and waved it. “It’s squished. Best red rose there was. Lindir told me where it grew yesterday.”

“Down the face of a cliff?” Aragon asked.

“The best are often hardest to get, Estel. I taught you that…tra-la,” Erestor said.

“And who was to be the recipient of this wonderful rose?” Elladan asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.

“Glorfindel, of course,” Erestor said in reply. “The doofus. Doesn’t even realize that I am courting him, tra-la.”

“Erestor, why are you speaking in Westron?” Aragorn asked.

“Man present, tra-la-lay,” the counselor sang.

“A Dúnadan who speaks Sindarin,” Elrohir chuckled.

“But there are such marvelously good words that men have,” Erestor said. “Doofus. Dork. Ding-bat. Ding-a-ling. Ditzy. Dopey. Hair-brained. Cockeyed. Loony. Tomfool. All of which describe that softheaded elf, tra-la…la.”

“You forgot addle-brained, Master Erestor,” Aragorn said with a grin.

“That too, tra-la,” Erestor replied.

“Why did you decide to start courting him now?” Elladan asked, adding a ‘tra-la’ as an afterthought.

“Silly ding-a-ling wasn’t cooperating,” Erestor said. “He was supposed to fall in love with me and court me, but he didn’t, so I am, tra-la. Your father told me to, tra-la. Said I’d never get the dopey lord any other way, tra-lay…oh, I rhymed.” Erestor was quite proud of himself. “He still doesn’t know he’s being courted, tra-la…la.”

“Maybe you should just tell him how you feel,” Aragorn said. Glorfindel was probably the only one in the valley who did not know that Erestor was in love with him.

“And put an end to my fun, tra-lay?” Erestor sang. “I do not think so, tra-lo…oh, I rhymed again!” 

The conversation continued all the way back to the Last Homely House. Sentries they passed along the way ran ahead to alert Elrond of Erestor’s misfortune, and the Lord of Imladris and Glorfindel stood waiting in the courtyard. Although overjoyed to see his sons and Estel return unexpectedly to their valley after a year away with the Dúnedain Rangers, everyone understood that their reunion would have to wait until Elrond had seen to Erestor’s care. 

“Erestor, my dear friend, whatever happened? How badly hurt is he?” Elrond stooped to run a hand over Erestor’s frame as Elladan and Elrohir carried him to the healing halls and Glorfindel hovered anxiously alongside. 

There are no broken bones, Ada,” Elladan answered, “although he has quite a concussion, a nasty gash on his head, and many bruises and scrapes. He tumbled down a cliff while picking…a rose.”

The healing halls were reached, and Erestor was gently lifted and laid upon a bed. 

“Elrond! Hallo, tra-lo!” Erestor sang, finally recognizing his lord’s voice as the half-elf quietly asked the healers to bring him bandages, cleaning supplies, salves, and herbs. “Where is that addle-brained elf I am in love with, tra-la? Glooooorfindel…come out, come out wherever you are, tra-la. I have a rose for you, tra-la…lay.”

“Oh dear,” Elrond said.

“Oh dear,” Glorfindel said. “I am here, Erestor.”

Erestor cracked open an eye. “Glorfiiiiindel! There you are, tra-la-la. Here. A rose.” He smiled. “I picked you the finest red rose you ever saw. It’s squished.” He waved the rose at Glorfindel. "Tra-la-la," he sang.

"Has he lost his mind, my lord?" Glorfindel whispered, approaching Erestor's bed.

"Yes...and no," Elrond replied. "My sons, why do you not go and get cleaned up and then join me for dinner in my rooms later? I am happy to see you all safely home. I thank the Valar that you found Erestor and I thank you for bringing him home." He embraced Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn briefly and then sent them on their way.

Erestor waved the rose in front of Glorfindel's face. "As red as your ruby lips, tra-la," he sang. "As soft as your velvet skin, tra-lo."

"Elrond...help," Glorfindel whimpered.

"Take the rose and say thank you, tra-la, Glorfindel," Elrond said, continuing to assess Erestor’s condition.

The golden lord accepted the rose from the smiling counselor and placed it in his tunic. "Thank you, tra-la, Erestor," Glorfindel dutifully said.

"You're welcome, tra-lay," Erestor sang. "A squish-ed rose is still a rose....tra-lilie-tra-lilie-tra-lay. I gave to my love a ruby red rose, tra-lilie-tra-lilie-tra-lay. Elrond, can I go to sleep now? Those scruffy boys of yours wouldn't let me sleep and Estel made me lose my breakfast. Maybe only Estel was scruffy. He needs a shave and a bath. Sleep, sleep, beautiful sleep...and then to eat. I'm hungry. Missed lunch. Is it time for dinner? Oh! Tea! Thirsty too…tra-lay."

“Can you sit, Erestor?” Elrond asked. “Shall we try it? I will make you some healing tea to ease your thirst, and then we will see about you eating and sleeping.”

“Oh, no…mustn’t sit…rocking boat, tra-la, like Cirdan’s ship, tra-lay. Sitting is bad…tra-le, my head is broke, tra-la,” Erestor sang.

“Just tea for the moment then, my friend,” Elrond said. “It will ease your stomach. Then you can sleep while Glorfindel and I bind that head gash, wash your scrapes and ease your bruises. After you wake again, you will feel better and can eat something.”

“Gloooorfiiiindel is a mighty elf, tra-lay, as handsome as can be,” Erestor sang softly. “And ooooooh I love him dearly and he’s too blind to see, tra-le. Oh, I rhymed again!” 

“Elrond, whatever is wrong with him?” Glorfindel whispered, following Elrond to the other side of the room. He was fairly certain that Erestor, who continued to sing, could not hear him. “This is not our serious counselor friend at all!”

The half-elf healer brewed a cup of healing tea as he whispered back. “But it is. He has a concussion, Glorfindel. A very bad one, it seems. It seems to have…eased…his inhibitions, shall we say?”

“Eased his inhibitions? Are you saying that what he’s saying is true? He is in love with me?” Glorfindel had never felt so shocked, unless one counted his encounter with a certain Balrog.

Elrond smiled softly. “He is, you silly elf. He always has been, and I think you are the only one who does not realize it. It has been in his eyes when he looks at you for all to see. And he is going to be madder than a wet cat when he finds out he told you so like this. He has been courting you. You are quite addle-brained about such things, you know.”

“Courting me? No!” Glorfindel stopped and thought. “I am a warrior – what do I know of such things?”

“And how do you feel about it?” Elrond asked.

“I do not know! Shocked, I suppose.” Glorfindel watched the counselor, who continued singing with his eyes closed. “He really loves me? He cannot hear us, can he?”

“Yes, he really loves you, and no, I do not believe he can hear us right now. But come and help me get this tea into him so we can make him more comfortable,” Elrond said, carrying the brewed tea to the bed. “I think it is safe to allow him to sleep, as long as one of us watches over him.”

Erestor drank the tea dribbled into his mouth from a teaspoon, and then promptly fell silent – and sound asleep. 

“Poor Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered, helping Elrond remove the counselor’s torn tunic and leggings, leaving Erestor clothed in only his loincloth. “How long until he is back in his right mind?”

“I hope that after he sleeps he will be much restored to his old self. Time will tell. He will need a few days in bed to fully recover, however, and I do not want him left alone during that time in case there is more serious damage that has not shown itself yet.” Elrond began bathing Erestor’s head injury with warm, soapy water. “Bring the basin of fresh water and a towel please, Glorfindel.”

There was silence and the golden lord did not move.

“Glorfindel?” Elrond stared at the warrior, who was staring at Erestor’s body.

“I had no idea he was so beautiful. Or had such fine muscles,” Glorfindel whispered in awe of the picture before him. “He is stunning!” Erestor was a vision of loveliness, and though much thinner than either Elrond or Glorfindel, could easily be taken for a warrior instead of the counselor and scribe that he was. His calves and thighs bulged with muscle in all the right places, as did his chest and arms. 

“You are being addle-brained again, Glorfindel. Please fetch the basin of fresh water and towels,” Elrond replied. “Of course he is beautiful. Everyone in the valley knows he is as beautiful outside as he is inside. Why are you just finding it out?” 

Glorfindel set the basin of clear water next to Elrond, along with the towels. “I suppose I never…looked…before…I suppose.”

“Erestor prides himself in keeping in shape, and he is quite skillful with knives – actually, I have never seen any one more skilled than he is.” Elrond bandaged the gash on Erestor’s head and was about to begin washing the counselor’s scraped hands, but decided against it. “Here,” he said quietly, handing Glorfindel the soapy cloth, “clean the scrapes on his hands and arms gently while I take care of the ones on his legs.” Watching Glorfindel out of the corner of his eye, he cleaned the injuries on Erestor’s lower extremities and then applied a soothing ointment.

“He is skilled…with knives?” Glorfindel whispered, wanting to shake his head to clear it because none of this was making any sense. 

Elrond nodded. “I warrant he could even best you with them.”

Glorfindel nearly dropped the cloth he was using. He was not a conceited or arrogant elf, but still…best him with knives? “I should like the opportunity to spar with him one day.”

“I am sure that Erestor would oblige you,” Elrond whispered. “You have only to ask him. The two of you have been friends for many years. How is it you never knew these things?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “We play chess, we read, we discuss books or the happenings in the valley…the subject just never…came up…I suppose.”

Elrond turned to fetch the sleeping robe one of the healers had brought for Erestor, and grinned secretly. Oh, this was going to be fun. Glorfindel was the best warrior and commander Elrond had ever seen, short of Gil-Galad himself, but he could be quite naïve about other things – like love. Returning to the bed, he motioned for Glorfindel to help him with clothing Erestor in the sleeping robe and whispered, “Do you enjoy his company, Glorfindel?”

The warrior looked up and nodded. “Very much,” he said quietly. 

Erestor was carefully clothed in the sleeping robe and gently covered with blankets tucked up to his chin. Elrond motioned to Glorfindel to join him across the room where they could sit and talk quietly. Once they were seated, Elrond asked, “Have you never been lonely since your return, Glorfindel?” At the warrior’s nod, he continued, “Then would it not be nice to have someone waiting for you to return when you are gone on patrol? Someone to welcome you home with open arms? Someone to hold and be held by each night?”

Glorfindel gazed at the sleeping elf, wondering why he had never realized that Erestor was such a beauty. The counselor’s eyes were closed in his healing slumber, and even asleep, Erestor’s inner light shone brightly. Finally he said, “I can see his light – I always have. I have loved him – I do love him – as a dear friend. His soul is good and pure.”

Elrond nodded. Ah, my friend, he thought, it is just a little step to loving him as more than a friend, and if I can help that happen…. Erestor deserves to be happy, as do you. Our lives are too long to spend them alone. Aloud he said, “You already know that Erestor is a beautiful, caring, loving elf on the inside, and now you have seen how beautiful he is on the outside as well. Can you not imagine how wonderful it would be to hold him and call him your own? See how his lips are curved into a smile? He dreams of holding you.”

“Does he?” Glorfindel asked breathlessly. “How do you know?”

“How could he not?” Elrond replied. “He loves you. Have you never dreamt of him, Glorfindel? Have you never wondered what it would feel like to touch those soft, red lips with your own?”

Glorfindel’s innocent eyes looked shocked and he shook his head rapidly. “No…never. I never thought….”

Elrond rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “What did you never think, my friend?”

Glorfindel took a deep breath and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “I know there are many here who have shown an interest in me, but I was never been attracted to any of them, and I guess…I just stopped paying any attention to...all of it.”

“Perhaps it is time to start paying attention to it again?” Elrond said kindly. “There are few elves in Arda as beautiful and good as Erestor, Glorfindel. He would make a worthy mate.”

Glorfindel sat back in his chair and tilted his head, looking at Erestor, watching the blanket-covered chest rise and fall with each soft breath. “He would indeed,” he whispered. “I just never thought of him as mine before. But I will give this much consideration. You say that he loves me and I know that I am tired of being alone. But do I really love him only as a friend?”

“That is the question you must search your heart for an answer to,” Elrond replied. “Why not take advantage of the time that Erestor will need to heal? He cannot be left unattended for several days and…”

“I will stay with him and care for him,” Glorfindel interrupted. 

Elrond smiled and nodded. “Then I will go and visit with my sons. Send for me when he awakens and we will see if he is in any shape to return to him rooms. He may take some tea and food if his stomach will allow it then too.”

After a final check on Erestor, Elrond left Glorfindel to his solitary vigil. The warrior moved his chair and sat near the head of the bed. He gently smoothed dark hair away from Erestor’s face and removed one pale hand from beneath the blankets, holding it in his own. “Erestor, my friend,” he whispered. “Why did you never tell me you loved me? I always wondered why you never took a mate. Now I know you were waiting for me. It seems that I am the last to know.” He closed his eyes, and with Erestor’s hand still tucked between his own larger ones, started pondering his feelings.

He had always enjoyed Erestor’s company. They were friends, and close friends at that. Erestor was someone he could be himself with – like Elrond. For years on end they had spent almost every evening in each other’s company. After dinner they would retire to one or the other’s rooms and talk over a game of chess, or if Glorfindel had just returned from a patrol, Erestor would seat him in a comfortable chair, prop his feet up on a footstool, place a glass of wine in his hand, and read to him quietly. 

Glorfindel’s body jolted upright in shock at what he had just recalled. Erestor’s actions had not just been those of a friend. A friend would merely have told him to have a good night and left him to rest; Erestor’s actions were those of a lover – a mate. He smiled softly, realizing how much Erestor really did care for him. A warm feeling grew in his heart. But wait…he had felt that warmth once before. When was it? 

His mind quickly searched back to the time that Erestor had worked long into the night writing out trade agreements needed for the following day. Going in search of the counselor, Glorfindel had found him hunched over his desk, working through the pain in his shoulders and hand. And so Glorfindel had stayed the night with his friend, helping him copy out the agreements, and when they had finished, Glorfindel had massaged out the kinks in Erestor’s hand and shoulders. Erestor had fallen asleep during the massage, and so Glorfindel had carried him to the counselor’s rooms, removed his heavy robes, and put him into his bed. He remembered feeling the same warm feeling in his heart as he had tucked the bedclothes around Erestor. Were his actions not more than a friend’s that night? Did he not also act like a lover to Erestor? Had he unconsciously been seeing Erestor as more than just a friend?

Glorfindel stared at Erestor’s red lips, parted slightly in his sleep. They looked so soft and inviting, and for the first time he wondered what it would feel like to kiss them. He was not a stranger to love – just not in this life. Gondolin seemed so long ago and the memories of his lover there were but a shadow, followed as they were by his years in the Halls and on Valinor, and then his new life here in Imladris. But even his lover in Gondolin had never cared for him as Erestor did. The counselor’s love was selfless, and Glorfindel wondered how many years Erestor had loved him. 

Unable to resist the silent call, he slowly lowered his head and gently pressed his lips against Erestor’s. The lips he touched with his own were as soft as a rose petal, and he felt the warmth grow in his heart. He lifted his head to gaze at Erestor before once again lowering his mouth to the sleeping elf’s, this time for a little longer. Softly swiping his tongue over the soft lips, his toes curled and he breathed a quiet, “Yes”. Leaning over the bed, he rested his head on Erestor’s pillow, golden strands mingling with ebon, and whispered, “I hope you wake soon, Erestor. I think I am in love with you.”

~~~*~~~

Erestor woke with a groan. His head hurt, and he was thirsty. Come to think on it, his whole body hurt. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he attempted to open his eyes and sit up, trying to shake off the haze that surrounded him. “Easy, my friend,” a soft voice said. “Let me help you, but tell me if you feel ill.” A strong arm lifted his back and gently lowered him back against a stack of pillows for support. “Are you in pain? Would you like something to drink? How is your stomach feeling?”

“Too many questions,” Erestor rasped. The blacksmith in his head pounded the anvil of his brain incessantly. “Water?”

“I have some fresh tea here for you that will ease your throat and help to clear your head. Let me hold the cup for you – just drink slowly,” the voice said, holding the cup to Erestor’s lips.

Erestor sipped the tea, allowing whoever was behind the soothing voice to care for him. Sip by sip, he slowly drained the cup, then relaxed back against the pillows. The murky haze in his head began to clear, although the pounding remained, and he knew the disembodied voice was Glorfindel’s. Realizing someone was holding his hand, he finally opened his eyes a crack to see the golden warrior beside him. “What happened?” he asked, a split second later remembering. “Oh, I fell. I hit my head.” For some unknown reason he almost felt like adding a “tra-la” to the end of his words. “How did I get back here?” he asked, recognizing a room in the healing wing. 

“The twins and Estel came upon you, thank the Valar,” Glorfindel said quietly. “You have been asleep for several hours. We do not know how long you lay at the bottom of the cliff.”

“A long time, I think,” Erestor replied. “What time of day is it?”

“An hour or so past the dinner hour,” Glorfindel said. “The boys brought you back in the middle of the afternoon, and you had been gone since morning. Do you think you can handle something to eat? We have kept some soup warm for you and there is bread as well.” He refrained from asking Erestor any more questions, or informing him that the healer who had been in the room when he woke had gone to fetch Elrond, knowing that the counselor’s wrinkled brow indicated he had a mighty pain in his head.

Erestor took a moment to think about how he felt, and silently blessed Glorfindel for speaking softly. His thoughts were getting clearer, and even though his body ached and his head pounded, he was hungry. Very hungry. “I would like to try,” he finally said. “I am famished.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Elrond said, entering the room. “It is a good sign. How are you feeling, my friend? You had us all quite worried.” Walking to the bed he examined Erestor’s head and then his eyes while Glorfindel went to the fire and ladled hot soup into a bowl. 

“A little fuzzy yet. Head hurts – someone is in there hammering. Body hurts. I have been worse,” Erestor responded. “Nothing broken?”

“Just your head,” Elrond said. “Or so you told us when the boys brought you back.”

Erestor considered snorting at the comment, but thought better of it. No sense making the blacksmith hit the anvil any harder. He was beginning to have a recollection of talking with the twins and Estel. Estel…. “Estel was scruffy,” he said. “I told him he needed a shave. And a bath. And he made me lose my breakfast.”

“Good, you are remembering,” Elrond said. His fingertips gently stroked Erestor’s scrunched up brow, helping to ease the counselor’s pain. “I think you will recover fully, but you will be sore for a few days, and I want you to remain in bed for at least two or three days until we can be sure that there are no other ill effects. Just rest and let us take care of you, my friend.”

“Oddly, I have no desire to fight you on that account, Elrond,” Erestor said. “Especially as there is a herd of wild horses, a gaggle of geese, and a murder of crows, all jostling for position in my head around the damned blacksmith who is hammering on my brain. At the moment, rest for a few days sounds very inviting.” Glorfindel set a tray of steaming soup and bread on Erestor’s lap, and the counselor’s stomach, as if on queue, growled. The soup smelled wonderful and Erestor carefully filled the spoon with the rich broth and tasted it. His stomach did not revolt so he continued eating, careful not to consume it too fast and cause another upset. After eating enough to satisfy his urgent hunger, he asked, “Will you let me return to my rooms tonight?” 

“I would prefer it if you stayed here, but I suppose you could go to your rooms as long as you stay in bed and there is someone with you. You cannot be alone for a few days, Erestor,” Elrond said a bit sternly. “I will fix an herbal tea that will ease your pain and help you rest. It will not be the best tasting, but it will make you feel better.”

The prospect of having someone with him for more than the coming night pleased Erestor about as much as the thought of one of Elrond’s foul brews, but he would put up with it as long as it meant he could leave the healing rooms. “Perhaps one of the twins then,” he said. “Even Estel – as long as he has had a bath.” 

Glorfindel chuckled. “He has had a bath, and cleaned up very nicely. He even came to check on you while you were sleeping, as did the twins. They love you very much, you know, and were very worried about you. While they would all be more than willing to stay with you and take care of you, my friend, I claim that honor for myself. I will set the twins to look after my regular duties, Elrond permitting.” He paused to look up at his lord who nodded in agreement. “You have cared for me countless times when I returned from patrol, Erestor. It is my turn to care for you.”

The blacksmith swinging his hammer was slowing his strikes, and if he hadn’t been afraid of rousing the pounding in his head further, Erestor would have hopped around the room in joy. Oh wonder of wonder and joy of joys! Glorfindel was going to stay with him! Praised be the Valar for his fall from the cliff that resulted in such an outcome. It was just too bad that he was not feeling at his best – or rather, that he was feeling at his worst, but having Glorfindel with him was a most pleasant prospect indeed, and one he would attempt to take full advantage of. His pained expression not changing, he said, “Are you sure you do not mind, Glorfindel? It will be very boring for you, and surely one of the boys…”

“I am never bored in your company, dear Erestor,” Glorfindel said, smiling at his friend and gently patting one of his scraped and bandaged hands. “Try and eat some more of your soup before it goes cold. When you are finished, you shall have some of Elrond’s foul brew, and I shall carry you to your rooms and tuck you into your very own bed where you can rest more comfortably.”

~~~*~~~

Erestor half dozed, his arm wrapped securely around Glorfindel’s neck as the large warrior carried the smaller, slender elf to his rooms. He wished he wasn’t so very tired so he could enjoy the ride a little more. Still, to be held in Glorfindel’s arms in any state was bliss. He nuzzled his head against his friend’s neck. 

Elrond walked ahead of them, opened the door to Erestor’s rooms, walked through the sitting room to the bedroom, and then turned down the bedclothes on his counselor’s bed. Nodding to Glorfindel and giving him a small smile, he left the two elves.

Erestor sighed as he was laid in his comfortable bed. As the blankets were tucked around him, the part of his mind that wasn’t harboring the hammering blacksmith or wasn’t already half asleep made him reach out for Glorfindel’s hand and whisper, “Will you stay with me?”

Glorfindel entwined his fingers with Erestor’s and said, “Of course I will stay.” Erestor’s bed was large enough for several elves and a dozen of the counselor’s favored black cats. Taking Erestor’s words as an invitation, Glorfindel toed off his boots and lay down beside the counselor. Using his free hand he soothed dark hair out of Erestor’s face and whispered, “Rest, my friend. Sleep. I will be here and watch over you.”

Erestor smiled gently and rested his face on Glorfindel’s hand, almost instantly falling asleep. 

“You really do love me, don’t you?” Glorfindel whispered, knowing Erestor was too far into reverie to hear him. In his sleep, the counselor moved closer to the warrior’s warmth.

Tinnu the two hundred and thirty-seventh or two hundred and thirty-eighth – Erestor admitted to losing count once during the last age owing to the war – rose from his cozy spot at the foot of the bed to sniff at his friend’s hand and then his face. Looking up to Glorfindel, he softly meowed, sensing that all was not right with his elf.

“Erestor is hurt, Tinnu,” Glorfindel whispered, “but he will be better soon. Lie down along side of him and keep him warm.” Tinnu gave Erestor’s face a gentle lick, and then obediently lay down along side of his elf. Glorfindel laid watching Erestor and wondering about the turn of events. He had not been looking for love, but love had found him nonetheless. After long minutes he realized his hand was numb and he carefully disentangled it from Erestor’s. Wrapping his arm around the sleeping elf, he joined the counselor in reverie.

~~~*~~~

Erestor woke feeling warm and much improved. The blacksmith in his head had finally ceased his hammering, so the counselor evicted him for non-payment of his royalty. He tentatively stretched, and the bruises on his body reminded him that they were still there. But wait! An arm lay across his body – and a large arm at that! He cautiously looked to his side, and there laid a golden dream, deep in reverie, his blue eyes misted in sleep. Oh, heavenly joy! To Mordor with all his aches and pains; Glorfindel had slept along side of him and held him – was still holding him! If he hadn’t been afraid of waking the sleeping elf, Erestor would have sung in happiness. Instead, he curled closer against the elf he adored and went back to sleep.

When the counselor next awoke, there was a purring in his ear that did not come from an elf. The golden Glorfindel had been replaced by the black Tinnu and the warrior was nowhere in sight. Erestor frowned, but petted his beloved cat for a few moments before lifting his hands to flex them carefully under the loose bandages. His palms were still a bit sore, but not nearly as bad as when he’d held the spoon to eat his soup last night – not that he would have told Elrond or Glorfindel and allowed one of them to feed him. He suspected that Elrond would be removing the bandages today and leaving them off anyway, so he unwound the thin strips of cloth and surveyed his palms, happy to see just a few cuts and scrapes that were already healing nicely.

Gently moving the cat aside, he gingerly rose to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The blacksmith might be gone from his head, but the hammer and anvil had been replaced by a crew of elves rowing a boat in heavy seas, and his head and stomach lurched and dipped on the waves. Waiting until the motion stopped, he carefully stood, holding onto the bedpost for support. And that was when he saw it. A thick rope, right at his shoulder level, was tied firmly to the bedpost, and then stretched tightly all the way to his bathroom doorframe, where it was knotted around a large hook. 

Blessing Glorfindel’s ingenuity, he held onto the rope and slowly made his way across the room and into the bathroom, where he closed the door and sank onto a stool in front of his basin and mirror. The reflection staring back at him told him he’d certainly looked better. But then again, he’d also on occasion looked worse. Like after a fierce battle. His hair was a mess and none too clean, his eyes still appeared abnormally large, and a dingy grey cloth had more color than his flesh. And that didn’t even take into account the large white bandage that wound around his head. Picking up his brush and running it through the worst of his tangled mane, he realized why Elrond and Glorfindel had left his hair alone when a searing pain took his breath away. The blacksmith was back. “Get out of my head,” he whispered. “I evicted you.” Apparently his head had taken the worst of the fall, and then he remembered telling someone that his head was “broke”. Seemingly not far from the truth, he thought. Ignoring the blacksmith for the moment, he settled with washing his hands and face in warm, soapy water and cleaning his teeth. Anything more would have to wait, but just washing his face made him feel more refreshed. By the time he was finished in the bathroom, however, he was swaying on his feet. 

Ever more thankful for the rope, he held onto it tightly as he made his way back to bed. Tinnu was lying stretched out on the near side of the bed, so he said, “Move, Tinnu, or I am afraid I will squish you.” The cat scooted away just as Erestor collapsed onto the bed. “Almost squished,” he said, patting the cat and pulling his blanket up again. It would be a fine June day, but the morning still held a chill in the air. “Squished….something was squished…” 

Glorfindel reentered the room, carrying a breakfast tray. “You are awake!” he said cheerfully. “How do you feel?”

“My bruises have reminded me that they are still there, and I made the mistake of trying to brush my hair, which heralded the brief return of the blacksmith in my head,” Erestor replied with a small smile. “Thank you for the rope. I would never have made it back to bed without it.”

“I feared you would awake and try to get up on your own while I was gone to get your breakfast,” Glorfindel replied, placing the tray on the bedside table. “It is well that I thought of it.” He sat on the bed along side of Erestor. “Do you think you could manage some food?”

“I feel like I could manage quite a bit of food. I am starving again,” Erestor said. “What have you brought me?”

Glorfindel rose and helped Erestor sit up, stacking the pillows behind him for support. “I have brought you a bowl of hot sweetened porridge, poached eggs, fresh strawberries, hot muffins with honey and strawberry jam, a pot of tea, and a pitcher of cool spring water.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Erestor said as Glorfindel placed the tray on his lap, and then he stopped. Lying on the tray beside the plates was a large red rose. “A rose. I was getting a red rose. It got squished,” he whispered, picking up the thornless rose.

“It did,” Glorfindel said. “But it is still a beautiful rose and very precious to me because you put yourself in danger just to bring me the most beautiful rose you could find. This one is not as beautiful, but it is the best from the gardens, so I picked it for you.”

“I gave you the rose?” Erestor asked in a whisper.

Glorfindel nodded and carefully removed a folded paper from inside his tunic. Opening the paper, he revealed the pressed rose. “It is still beautiful, and it always will be, because it was from you.”

“Did I…did I tell you anything when I gave it to you?” Erestor asked, still whispering.

“No, you didn’t exactly tell me anything,” Glorfindel said, hiding a smile as Erestor visibly relaxed. “But you did sing about the rose being as red as my ruby lips and as soft as my velvet skin.”

“Oh. Did I…did I sing anything else?” Erestor squeaked. The blacksmith was back in his head in full force, and the elves were rowing their boat in his stomach again.

Glorfindel nodded. “As I recall, it was something like, ‘Where is that addle-brained elf I am in love with, tra-la? Glorfindel come out, come out wherever you are, tra-la. I have a rose for you, tra-lay,’ but I could have the words a little mixed up.”

Erestor swallowed and blushed as deeply red as the rose he still held in his hand. The rowboat was in danger of capsizing and the blacksmith struck the anvil with such force that the counselor’s ears reverberated with it. “I…did not intend for you to find out that way,” he whispered. “I am sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Erestor?”

“You are not ready…I hoped to court you for a time until you…well…” The blacksmith pounded a staccato on Erestor’s brain, each strike hard enough to split the anvil. 

“Erestor?” Glorfindel smiled and sat down on bed facing the counselor.

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you now,” Glorfindel whispered, and he leaned over the breakfast tray and did just that.

Oh joy! Oh divine rapture! A corner of Erestor’s mind once again gave thanks to the Valar for his most fortuitous fall. The blacksmith and the rowing elves fled and were forgotten as his toes curled and he delighted in the taste of his golden love. The kiss was soft and sweet, and everything he could have wished for in a first kiss. When it ended, he looked dreamily up into Glorfindel’s eyes.

“I *am* ready, Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered. “I am tired of being alone. My dear, dear friend, I love you too. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold, tra-la.” 

“Glorfindel, I love you, tra-lay,” Erestor said as he picked up his spoon and began to eat his porridge.

~~~*~~~

Elrond came to check on his chief counselor and declared Erestor mending, and the day was dozed away and blacksmiths and rowing elves kept at bay by Glorfindel’s gentle company. On the second day, Erestor was allowed to bathe and the golden elf carefully washed and untangled his hair. On the third day, Erestor was allowed to rise from his bed and walk in the gardens. It was there, amid the lushly blossoming roses, that Glorfindel formally asked to court him, to which Erestor readily agreed. It was on the fifth day, when Elrond declared the counselor well, that Glorfindel finally returned to his own room, flush with excitement and full of plans to court his elegant friend as Erestor assuredly deserved. 

As carefully as he would detail a plan for battle, Glorfindel plotted his campaign: three months of carefully detailed tokens of his affection, planned meetings, and picnics by the Bruinen, were all written out in his finely scripted hand, followed by another three months of more intimate gifts and romantic candlelit evenings. At the end of the six months, he would ask for Erestor’s hand in marriage, gift him with a silver ring, and at the end of another twelve months, they would be wed. It was how things were done. It was the way to court and woo your mate; it was a time-honored tradition, and if Glorfindel was anything, he was an honorable, traditional elf.

The first day that Erestor returned to his office, he found waiting for him on his desk a red rose and a carefully written note which read, 

“My dear Erestor, 

I beg the honor of your company for luncheon. It would give me great joy if you would join me in the south rose garden at midday today to share my repast.

Yours faithfully,

Glorfindel”

Erestor smiled giddily at the sweetness and penned back his acceptance, sending it to Glorfindel in the barracks by way of a servant.

Every day after, Erestor received a little gift, left on his desk for him to see when he arrived, and a note. There were roses and other flowers, a new quill one day, or a special sweet the next; an invitation to a picnic was followed by an invitation to join Glorfindel for afternoon tea in the gardens. And so it went for a month. Erestor’s hand and cheek were kissed, and sometimes his lips were softly and chastely kissed, followed by, “I love you, tra-la,” being whispered in his ear. 

What at first was sweet became baffling, and then frustrating, and Erestor wondered just what Glorfindel was playing at. One night, after another chaste good-night kiss, Erestor stormed into Elrond’s sitting room, threw himself on the chaise longue, and began to beat his head against the wooden armrest.

Elrond hastily grabbed a pillow and shoved it between Erestor’s head and the armrest. “Whatever is the matter?” he asked anxiously.

“I cannot take it anymore!” Erestor groaned. “All the little hand-kissing and cheek-kissing and chaste little pecks; all the sweet little notes that say nothing and the flowers and sweets! I cannot stand it any longer! He says he loves me – so why cannot he even give me a decent kiss? Why? Tell me why? I am going mad!”

“You have not….kissed?” Elrond asked in surprise. 

“Nothing but chaste little pecks! What is wrong with him? I want lust and groping and kisses so passionate that your toes curl and your stomach ties in knots! And all I get is sweet little brushes of his lips,” Erestor sighed. “And all these little notes! Why cannot he just storm in my office one day and carry me off somewhere? Why all the gentile “Glorfindel requests the honor of your presence” nonsense on fancy perfumed parchments? Besides, he is wasting all that good parchment, damn the addle-brained idiot! I am not some blushing maiden, Elrond! Glorfindel knows this, and still all I get is sweetness and fluff. I want passion and fire and sweaty…sex! I am a warrior, or at least I was! Morgoth’s balls, the elf is driving me insane!”

Elrond sat in his chair facing Erestor and thought. Finally he said, “I think I know why, Erestor. Glorfindel is a product of his age, my friend. Yes, he has been here for many years, but he never paid attention to courting and…love…here. You are being courted in the way someone from his time - a more gentile time with courtly rituals that still remained from Valinor - would woo their chosen one. He does not know any other way, Erestor, and he undoubtedly feels that to treat you otherwise would dishonor you.”

Erestor groaned and bounced his head off the pillow. “What am I going to do?”

Elrond rose, and walking to a side table, poured a glass of miruvor for himself and one for Erestor. Handing the counselor his glass, he said, “Perhaps the time has come to show the addle-brained elf how much more expediently things can be done in this Age, tra-la.” He grinned and winked at Erestor.

~~~*~~~

Erestor and Glorfindel walked arm-in-arm in the twilight garden, enjoying the last of the day’s warmth. The counselor rested his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder and whispered, “I love you, tra-la,” which he knew would earn him a little kiss. When Glorfindel predictably answered with an, “I love you, tra-lay” and a gentle kiss, Erestor wound his fingers through the golden mane and tried to deepen the kiss, running his tongue softly over the golden elf’s lips, seeking entrance.

Glorfindel gasped and jerked his head back. “We cannot do that, Erestor!”

“Why ever not, tra-la?” Erestor purred, rubbing his head against Glorfindel’s chest and wrapping his arms around the larger elf. “You love me and I love you, and it is the natural way of elves.”

“But we have only been courting for one month! After three months when we begin to be more romantic, then we can kiss for longer, but until then….”

“Of what do you speak, love? We have no courting ritual that determines what an elf may or may not do. Is this how it was done in Gondolin?” Erestor asked softly.

“And in Valinor,” Glorfindel answered. “Dear one, it is the way we elves court. To do otherwise would be to treat you ill and you deserve only the best.”

“Glorfindel, my love,” Erestor purred, “I care not for courting rituals. I have loved you for too long, and I want you.” He nuzzled his mouth along Glorfindel’s chin.

The blond elf jumped away. “You cannot do that yet, Erestor! That is for after we are betrothed in another five months. What is five months to elves, after all?”

~~~*~~~

Erestor threw himself into Elrond’s office, slammed the door shut, and proceeded to pound his head repeatedly against the wooden door.

Elrond flew across the room and pulled Erestor away from the door.

Erestor growled. “That stupid, ding-bat, ding-a-ling, ditzy, dopey, cockeyed elf is driving me out of my mind!” he roared.

“I take it our plan did not work,” Elrond asked as he led Erestor to the chaise, forced him to sit down, and then examined his head.

“Oh, no…it would dishonor me if he kissed me fully or touched me unchastely until we are betrothed – in another five months,” Erestor said sarcastically. “I will show him dishonor…”

“Well, why not? You may be slender, Erestor, but I have seen you fight. Perhaps you should just go and…get…what you want? He is rather thick-headed.”

Erestor stopped pounding his head against the pillows and grinned at Elrond. “At least I will have the element of surprise on my side.”

~~~*~~~

Glorfindel practically ran to the barracks from the garden after saying goodnight to Erestor, eager to surround himself with his rowdy warriors and rid his mind of the delectable counselor. He could not believe what Erestor had just tried with him, and could not believe the reactions of his traitorous body. Waiting the prescribed time for Erestor was going to be damned hard. Elbereth, but he wanted that elf! Erestor deserved all the esteem and respect Glorfindel was capable of giving – which was a phenomenal amount, considering who the blond warrior was – but damned if he hadn’t wanted to throw the elf down to the ground in the garden and have his way with him! Grabbing a glass of wine offered by one of the warriors, he gulped it down in one swallow, and then reached for another.

Erestor pushed the double doors of the barracks open forcefully with the palms of his hands and strode in like he owned the place. Spying his quarry across the room, he made a beeline for Glorfindel as guards quickly moved out of his way. Taking the glass of wine from Glorfindel’s fingers and shoving it at a surprised guard, he grabbed the captain by the wrist and pulled, saying, “You are coming with me!”

The guards stood in stunned silence until the two elves were gone and then broke out in laughter. “My wager is on Glorfindel,” one called out. “Mine is on Erestor,” countered another.

Glorfindel could do nothing but follow as Erestor forcefully dragged him out of the barracks, back into the main house, and into the counselor’s rooms. Kicking the door shut behind them, Erestor slammed the shocked elf up against the closed door. One hand latched onto the neckline of the warrior’s lightweight tunic and pulled, ripping it down the front. “Oh dear, did I do that?” Erestor said. “Sorry.” Gripping Glorfindel’s linen shirt neckline, buttons flew across the room as it suffered the same treatment. “Oh dear, look what I’ve done.”

“You tore my favorite shirt!” Glorfindel said, utterly shocked at Erestor’s actions. Reaching for the neckline on Erestor’s favorite deep blue silk robes, he grasped it tightly in his hand and pulled sharply. 

Erestor gasped as the robe tore easily, splitting from neckline to waist and revealing his bare chest.

“You have nothing on underneath!” Glorfindel’s whispered words were shocked.

“It is warm. I do not need anything on underneath it. And neither do you,” Erestor retorted. Wrapping the fingers of both hands around the waistline of Glorfindel’s linen leggings, he ripped them apart in one pull. 

Glorfindel gasped and reached for Erestor’s robes, tearing them the rest of the way off. “You…you…” His words were cut off as Erestor threw himself at the larger elf, pressing his bared skin against Glorfindel. “What are you…Oomph!” The warrior’s words were again sliced in mid-sentence as the counselor’s mouth crushed his own and a warm tongue snaked its way past lips and teeth to curl around its mate. There was nothing gentle about Erestor’s kiss, but it was *good*. 

Erestor rubbed his body against Glorfindel’s as his tongue fought its way into the delectable sweetness. Oh, this was heaven! To add to the effect, he ground his groin against the warrior’s, letting his hard member rub against Glorfindel’s.

Glorfindel pulled his mouth away from Erestor’s, and with a mighty roar, pushed himself away from the wall, picked up the counselor, threw him over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom.

Erestor laughed as he was thrown on the bed and the remainder of his robes torn away. His laughter turned into moans as a hard, large body landed atop his own and Glorfindel grabbed his dark hair in strong fingers, pulling his head up to kiss him passionately. 

As Erestor’s mouth was hungrily devoured, the counselor knew if he was going to win this battle he had to keep the upper hand and act quickly. With a strength he usually kept hidden, he flipped the warrior beneath him and settled astride Glorfindel’s hips. Breaking off their kiss, he sat upright and ran his hands over his own chest, pausing to circle his fingers around his hardened nipples. “Do you like what you see, my beautiful one?” he purred. Not skipping a beat, he leaned over and placed his mouth around one of Glorfindel’s nipples, teasing it between his teeth and sucking, while one arm reached out for the small phial of oil he had left on the bedside table. 

Glorfindel gasped as he was rolled beneath his beloved. When Erestor sat up and displayed himself wantonly, he moaned, nearly drooling at the sight of the firm, beautiful body. But the sound that came from the warrior’s mouth was something akin to a whimper when Erestor latched onto his nipple, and his fingers once again entwined themselves in the silky fall of black hair. He could feel Erestor’s hard member pressed up against his own, and desire burnt within him. All thoughts of his carefully planned courtship were hidden behind the fog of his passion.

Erestor coaxed the cork from the phial with his fingers and upended the bottle over his hand, not caring that oil spilt on his rich bedcovering. Fear that Glorfindel would stop him and his need for the golden lord drove him on. Reaching his oily hand behind himself, he drove two fingers within his core to hurriedly prepare the way for his warrior. It had been millennia since Erestor had been breached, and the unexpected pain nearly made him cry out, but he determinedly kept going. He would have his Glorfindel and nothing would stop him. Deeming himself ready, he took his still oil-covered hand and wrapped it around Glorfindel’s hard length, covering it with the unctuous liquid. In one fluid motion he lifted his body and impaled himself on his lover’s shaft.

So lost was Glorfindel in his passionate haze that before he knew what was happening, Erestor had taken himself upon his hard length and he was surrounded by silken, clenching, warmth. His roar was joined by a soft whimper and his hands moved to Erestor’s hips to support the elf he loved. The counselor’s head was bent over the warrior’s chest, and he could not see his face behind the veil of dark hair. “Erestor?” he whispered.

Erestor silently gasped as pain seared though his core, and a small whimper escaped his clenched lips. Only once in his long life had he ever shared himself with another, and that was during the War of the Last Alliance. They had seen too many pass to Namo’s Halls that day, and he and another sorrowing elf had found solace in each other’s arms. He never knew the elf’s name and never saw him again, but his partner had seen to his needs and did not hurt him. Biting his lips and hiding his face with his hair, he withheld his pain from Glorfindel’s eyes.

“Erestor…beloved…are you well?”

Erestor drew a ragged breath, but did not answer.

Glorfindel moved a hand to lift Erestor’s chin and looked into tear-glazed eyes. All the lust within him died at the sight of Erestor’s pain-ridden face. “Oh, Erestor,” he whispered.

“I did not know it would hurt so much,” Erestor said hoarsely. “But I needed you so much…wanted you so much. Please, Glorfindel, I want this. I want you. Please, make love to me.”

As gently as he could, Glorfindel rolled their bodies until Erestor lay beneath him and the counselor’s long legs were wrapped around his waist. He was too excited by the feel of being buried deep inside the elf he adored for his erection to soften, but he knew that Erestor’s had. Leaning down, he pushed his arms beneath his lover’s back and drew him close, softly kissing the tears from Erestor’s eyes and face. Taking Erestor’s mouth in a slow and sensuous kiss, his caressed the counselor’s tongue with his own until they were both breathless.

“Why are you not moving?” Erestor asked when he could breathe again.

“Because you are not ready, and I will not move until you are. I will not hurt you, dear one, no matter how much you want me, or I you,” Glorfindel said. Erestor was still not relaxing, and he felt as if he was held in a vise. His hands caressed his lover’s back and side. 

“I am afraid you will leave,” Erestor whispered. “Please….make love to me.”

“I will not leave you, Erestor. I love you, and the deed is already done. I could no more leave you now than I could pull Earendil’s star from the heavens. I promise you we will make love when the pain has passed and you are relaxed,” Glorfindel whispered, punctuating the words with soft kisses to Erestor’s face. “Relax, and know that I love you more than all of Arda. I would give you all the stars from the skies if I could.” 

Erestor felt the tears build up in his eyes as he was surrounded by the love of this compassionate, noble elf. The pain faded, and under Glorfindel’s tender ministrations he began to relax and open to his lover. 

Glorfindel felt the vise-like grip around him loosen, and gently laid Erestor back down on the bed. He held himself above the counselor, one hand resting on either side of Erestor’s head. Leaning down for a deep and loving kiss, he slowly moved his hips, withdrawing from Erestor’s heat, and then slowly sank back into the velvet sheath. He knew he would not last for long, and would not find his own pleasure without Erestor. The counselor’s long shaft was semi-erect again, and reaching between them, he wrapped his fingers around it and coaxed it back to hardness. 

Erestor moaned as Glorfindel withdrew and sank back into him, but then his hidden bundle of nerves was gently stroked by the hard length within him, and stars flashed before his eyes. Glorfindel had indeed given him all the stars from the night sky. He gripped the muscled body above him, and words fell incoherently from his lips as his shaft was slowly stroked, mimicking his lover’s movements. 

Nearing his own completion, Glorfindel leaned down once more, and after licking one of Erestor’s delicately pointed ears, whispered, “Come with me, my love.” With cries of never-ending love, they came together in a flash of light that rivaled the starlight and seared their souls, and they were one. 

Glorfindel slowly withdrew from Erestor’s body and pulled the sated and panting elf into his arms, cradling him as they lay side-by-side and pressing gentle kisses onto his lover’s beautiful face.

“I never knew it could feel like that,” Erestor finally whispered haltingly. “I love you, Glorfindel, so very much.”

“It was wonderful,” Glorfindel whispered. “You were wonderful. You are so beautiful.” He ran his hand along Erestor’s velvety skin. “I love you, Erestor, but we should continue our courtship; I will not have anyone think that you are less than honorable.” A part of the warrior’s mind refused to give up on what he saw as good and proper. “As hard as it will be not to touch you now, we should go back to courting and do it properly.”

Erestor rested on Glorfindel’s chest, loving him all the more for his ancient sense of honor. “No,” he whispered, pulling the warrior close and wrapping his arms tightly around his lover’s waist.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” 

“No,” Erestor said, using his voice that brooked no argument. “I refuse to go back to chaste occasional kisses after what we have shared, and you are addle-brained if you think you can either. If you wish to court me, you will move into these rooms with me, and you will sleep every night in my arms. You are mine now, and I will not let you go.”

“But, Erestor, I do not want anyone to think I do not honor and respect you.”

“Enough, my love, my very prim and proper love,” Erestor said quietly. “I love you even more for your sweet ancient ways, but if you want me, then from this night these are your rooms and this is your bed. You are mine and I am yours.” Having had his say, he captured Glorfindel’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

Glorfindel groaned and knew he was lost. His hands moved to cup Erestor’s perfectly rounded and firm buttocks. “What are you doing to me, Erestor? Your kisses are like fire and I cannot resist you.” His breath came quicker as he felt himself grow hard again. Pulling Erestor to him, he captured his sweet mouth in another scorching kiss. 

“Make love to me again,” Erestor whispered when they finally broke for breath.

“You will be sore, dear one,” Glorfindel said.

“You will not hurt me,” Erestor said. “Make love to me and let me show you how much I love you.”

Glorfindel moaned in need as he once again moved between Erestor’s long legs and slowly sank into the velvety heat, loving the feel of the firm muscles clenching around him. “So good,” he whispered. “Mine. You are mine.”

“As you are mine, my love,” Erestor said, wrapping his legs around Glorfindel’s waist. His hands curled into the golden hair that fell around them. “I love you,” he whispered, reaching up to lock his lips against his lover’s.

Glorfindel was determined not to hurt his love, and their lovemaking was long and slow and soft, until Erestor was writhing beneath him, begging for more. The warrior finally lost all control and once more their souls joined to dance among the stars.

And so, very nearly to his embarrassment, Glorfindel moved into Erestor’s rooms the following morning. Erestor continued to find the charming little notes and tokens of Glorfindel’s affection, especially roses, on his desk every morning, and never tired of them. At the end of the six months, they exchanged silver rings and were formally betrothed. After another twelve months, the silver rings were exchanged for gold in an elaborate wedding ceremony in Imladris’ rose gardens. 

To Erestor’s surprise, the daily love notes and little gifts never stopped. To this day, a little note and a rose await him on his desk each morning, tokens of affection from the elf who loves him more than all the stars in the heavens.

*****

chaise longue: A reclining chair with a long seat that supports the outstretched legs.

*****  
THE END


End file.
